


Profanity, Mr. Kent

by ColdCombatant



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Bruce, Bruises, Fluff and Humor, Forgetful Clark, Humorous Ending, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 11:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11035224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdCombatant/pseuds/ColdCombatant
Summary: Why is Clark late for work this time?





	Profanity, Mr. Kent

_"Fuck."_  
  
A word the billionaire was quite familiar with, and heard nearly on a daily basis.  
  
Yet his ears would never adjust. Not that it was a bad thing, it just sounded so abnormally foreign. Of course, that was because it was coming out of the mouth of a particular individual who didn't associate himself with profanity.  
  
Bruce liked it, however. He enjoyed it perhaps a little bit _too_ much. Watching the other mans normally composed demeanor completely unravel itself into the lascivious person he became in the bedroom always sent a tingle of excitement running up his spine.  
  
_"Fuck, Bruce.."_  
  
And there it was again. Clark's voice was quieter this time, somewhat shaky, with a hint of a growling pitch as he cursed through gritted teeth. Bruce could feel the Kryptonian's grip on his waist tighten even more as his thrusts became rougher, the need to release growing stronger. The repeated movement of Clark's cock sliding nearly all the way out then ramming back into him and hitting his prostate left Bruce practically speechless aside from the few inaudible mumbles of Clark's name and guttural moans.  
  
He was positive bruises of Clark's large hand prints would be left behind from the slight prickle of pain he felt. Luckily, it was his waist this time, and not his neck. Which would thankfully mean Bruce could avoid Alfred's questioning regarding if he was nearly fucking strangled to death on a nights patrol. Bruce's moans raised in octave and his voice cracked as Clark's movements became evermore erratic, less controlled, chasing after the ecstatic sensations.   
  
Unlike Clark's near death-grip on his hips, Bruce's hands chose to wander all over the Kryptonian's body, feeling him for everything he was and all he had to offer. His fingertips traced Clark's perfectly smooth, warm, and impenetrable skin which glistened from a thin layer of sweat. They started at his head, running trough that perfect dark head of hair. Bruce even dare give it a yank, only hard enough to guide Clark's face closer which he could messily crash their lips against one another.  
  
Next his touch moved slightly further down, tracing the light prickle of stubble on the other man's cheeks. Moving down even further, past Clark's neck which would be covered in multiple hickies and small lacerations, had Bruce been able to mark his nearly invincible skin with his teeth. He placed a single hand on Clark's chest, feeling the powerful and rapid heartbeat underneath his palm.  
  
Bruce dragged his exploring hands even more, fingers moving against the bumps and ripples of the mans muscular abdominal region before allowing them to remain there. As many times as his hands followed the same pattern on Clark's body, the feeling was always like the first. A combination of fascination and satisfaction was one way to describe it. He could never get enough of Clark.  
  
His eyes locked with that radiant blue stare which was glazed over in a cloud filled with lust and desire. That look along with the large cock driving Bruce's body absolutely insane was enough to bring him over the edge. Bruce's breathing hitched, back arching up off the oversized bed they lay on as he released on both his own and Clark's stomach, his dull nails scratching down Clark's stomach, though left no marks behind. The intense pleasure was borderline painful, leaving every nerve of his body hypersensitive to touch. Bruce's thighs twitched and he clenched repeatedly around Clark who's body leaned forwards, face buried in the crook of his neck and collarbone while breathing out a groan.  
  
Clark's teeth grazed against the side of his skin on his neck before he planted small kisses and bites there. The other man's thrusts slowed to a lethargic pace after Bruce came, orgasm following just seconds after Bruce's finished. His hands felt the other's muscles in his abdomen constrict during his climax, warmth flooded his insides as Clark filled him while growling out his name out next to the side of his ear, body shuttering atop Bruce's.  
  
He basked in the pleasure until his heartbeat slowed and he was able to think somewhat clearly again. With a sated expression, he stared at Clark who was the very definition of someone's wet dream, all solid muscle and shining with sweat, breathing deeply with a satisfied look on his face. Was it an enjoyable sight? Of course. But now the Kryptonian was just dead weight on top of him. Normally, Bruce wouldn't mind, but two hundred and twenty-something pounds of alien squishing him when he already felt boneless was a bit much, even for him.  
  
"Clark." Bruce rasps. "My lungs are gonna' collapse."   
  
It was a few moments before Clark blinked in realization, a sheepish grin spreading his lips. He pulled himself out and rolled off the side of the bed, handing Bruce some wipes from the dresser as he cleaned himself.  
  
"Thanks." Bruce said breathlessly, a smirk quirking at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Clark returned the expression with a crooked smile, and he happened to glance over at the clock. The smile instantly dropped, and those brilliant blue eyes widened.  
  
" _Crap!_ I'm late again! Perry's gonna flip." Clark said, scrambling off the side of the bed and quickly pulling up his boxers while slipping on his shirt.  
  
"I'm fired. I'm so fired. Oh my God I'm fired." He kept repeating, searching around the room for his pants. It was a weird yet humorous sight to see Clark using his super speed to run around the large room, throwing pillows, blankets, and everything in his way to find his pants.  
  
"They're on the bed, Clark." Bruce hummed through his smirk, which was now forming a devilish grin. He probably could've hit him with that piece of information 30 seconds ago, but it was fun watching him panic. Clark made a noise in between a scoff and a sound of disbelief. He hurriedly pulled them up and zoomed out the window in the blink of an eye.  
  
_"Excuse you."_  Bruce said loudly and bluntly after clearing his throat, sitting up on the bed while crossing his arms, facing the open window with a frown.  
  
Moments later Clark flew back, looking somewhat annoyed and flustered. "Sorry." He mumbled apologetically, giving Bruce a kiss of farewell on the forehead before turning to leave for the second time. Bruce released a small chuckle, he knew that was completely unnecessary and just did it for giggles and shit. Clark was too funny not to tease. As he rose and pulled the bedsheet over his naked form, he could've sworn as Clark clambered out the window that he said something underneath his breath.  
  
"What was that?" Bruce yelled out the window.  
  
"I said, you damned sassy bastard, wait till' I get back!"  
  
_"Profanity, Mr. Kent."_ A third voice chimed in.   
  
Bruce glanced down the ledge to see Alfred a story down, window open as he dusted some old blankets off. A wide grin spread across his features and he peered up to see Clark hovering, his face tinting red with embarrassment. In a supersonic boom, Clark was gone from sight, leaving only a gust of wind and a chuckling Alfred and Bruce.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya's enjoyed.


End file.
